I'm Not Okay I Promise
by xChryseisx
Summary: Bulimia: 'It’s having control in a life where there seems to be none at all.' But when will Casey realize that it ultimately has control over her? Unique Dasey. Chapter 15 up, finally. And it's pretty long. Please R & R. Also, I am sorry about the delay.
1. Omniscient Lizzie

Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek.

A/N: This idea came to me from a book I read, but it's not the exact plot or anything. And it's not like any of the other stories involving Casey and an eating disorder. At least, I'm really pretty sure it's not. It might be a Dasey, it might not. I make no promises.

Chapter 1…Omniscient Lizzie

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

Lizzie used to be a great sister. She was eleven and, for the most part, inexperienced. But now she is twelve and all knowing. And she knew exactly what I was doing in the bathroom that day.

"Casey?"

I heard her irresolute voice and froze, gripping the hair I was holding away from my face even tighter and slowly lifting my head from the toilet bowl to meet her gaze, her mouth slightly open, jaw tensed.

"What were you doing just now?" she asked me, crossing her arms over her developing chest.

I wiped consciously at my mouth with my sleeve, looking down at the floor. "Lunch. Didn't settle with me right," I said quickly, the words stumbling out as they came to me as I tried getting to my feet as gracefully as possible. Unfortunately, with a nickname like Klutzilla, doing anything gracefully is practically impossible and I felt my feet slip from underneath me. Bursts of pain traveled through my bottom and I let out a groan.

Lizzie just ignored my slip up as if she knew it was going to happen and continued her interrogation. "Casey, I had the same thing for lunch. But you don't see me leaning over a toilet puking my guts out, do you?"

"Not yet," I grumbled getting up again and distracting myself with grabbing a towel to clean up the soapy culprit of a mess on the bathroom floor, a genuinely irritated look on my face.

"Casey, I know what you're doing. I've read about it. I… I could help you if you wanted…" Lizzie said, gazing at me intently and letting her words trail off and linger around my ears.

"I don't need help Liz, I'm just sick from lunch, that's all," I said, putting the soiled towel in the hamper. "Now what I really want is some Tylenol for this headache you're giving me," I said, a little meaner than I meant while catching her eyes with mine in a look of pure frustration, crossing my own arms across my chest.

Lizzie just shook her head and left the room. I turned back to the toilet guiltily and flushed the mess, watching evidence of my secret spiral away into the plumbing.

_Well_, I thought, _Not exactly a secret anymore_.

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

I weighed 124 pounds when I started my… habit. I don't even remember the first time. I do remember why though. Why I still do it now. Why I feel like I can't stop.

But… It's kind of hard to explain. And if I do try to explain it, I'm afraid I'm going to sound like a sad story, telling the kind of stuff that therapists tell their patients to help them make sense of what they were doing and why it felt so addictive. I already know. It's having control in a life where there seems to be none at all. Every time I look in the mirror, step on the scale, I feel a wave of satisfaction crash over me, temporarily drowning the hunger and the pain in my throat from forcing food hastily into it and hastily out of it. But in the back of my mind a little voice says, _"It's still not enough Casey."_

So I'd find myself once again sitting on the bathroom floor, legs curled up underneath me as I leaned over the bowl, grasping the edge of the bowl with one hand, shoving the end of a toothbrush in the back of my throat with the other until I felt the familiar burn of vomit rushing up my itching throat.

It was a month after Lizzie caught me that she finally cracked. Over dinner too. I was mortified. My mother had pulled me aside in the middle of dinner and taken me down to her and George's room. I remember her hand clasped tightly around my forearm as she practically dragged me down the stairs. I couldn't feel it though. After Lizzie had let it slip, I just felt my body go numb and even number as I looked around the table as all eyes rested on me, even Marti's. For some reason I connected eyes with Derek. His mouth was hanging half-open in shock and was still full of food. In any other situation I would have laughed, but I couldn't even form coherent words, not even when we reached the basement. My mom sat me on the bed, placing a hand on either shoulder and kneeling down in front me, her eyes already glassy with tears of complete concern.

"Casey," she said, shaking my shoulders slightly when I didn't respond. "Casey, is it true?" Her eyes flitted from one of my eyes to the other as I felt myself staring into oblivion. "Casey?" she repeated. "Is it?"

I looked at my hands, folded in my lap and then at the wall adjacent us, doing my best not to get caught in her web of desperate need and worry. She shook my shoulders again and I tensed up before taking a deep breath and muttering, "Yes…"

I finally looked down to see her close her eyes tightly and shake her head, much like Lizzie had the day she'd caught me. I swallowed deeply, feelings of guilt creeping in the back of my mind.

_Well_, I thought, _Where to go from here?_


	2. Last Resort

Disclaimer: You know. I do not own Life with Derek. All I own are my stories.

A/N: Please stop and take the time to review this chapter. I'd like to know what I could do to make this story better.

Chapter 2… Last Resort

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

Somehow I ended up telling my mother how long I had been doing… What I was doing… I told her 2 months. I couldn't keep my eyes open for most of the conversation. She asked 'Why?' so many times, but I just couldn't tell her. And after a while she accepted that and got up off the floor and started pacing, hands folded tightly against her body as if she was holding herself together. It was killing me. I felt a bit of my heart whither away as I watched her continue her fretful walk.

"Casey," she finally stopped, her back turned away from me and towards the door. "We'll talk about this tomorrow… Okay?"

I gave a curt nod that she couldn't see and walked quietly past her. It was so silent I heard as the soles of my shoes shuffled on the carpet and felt her eyes on my back as I left.

The next day I stared incredulously across the counter at her. _Group Therapy?_ I thought, _Has she gone insane? It was hard enough accepting that I needed Paul, but this? This is completely absurd._ "What?" I said, one word seemingly doing justice to how I felt about the arrangement.

"Casey, it's the only thing we can afford. Money is so tight, we can't afford a real therapist or to send you to the hospital," she said. I shuddered at the thought of being hooked up to IVs forcing nutrition into my body by unnatural means. "George agrees," she said. I tensed at George's name, almost forgetting that he knew as well. "We really think it's for the best."

I closed my eyes and put my hands to my temple, trying to sooth my aching head with my fingertips. It had been the most awkward Saturday morning, save for my first one in the Venturi-MacDonald household. Derek hadn't made a smart remark as he walked past me in the hallway and into the bathroom, just paused to cast a lengthy glance at me. Almost everybody else chose this path of communication of their feelings as well, except for Marti, who looked up at me and asked, "Casey, are you really sick?"

My mouth opened and closed in attempt to form a response, but luckily I was saved (well, not exactly) by the sound of my mom's voice floating up the stairs, asking me to join her in the kitchen.

"I…I don't know what else to do, Case," my mother said, bringing my thoughts back to the more pressing matter of possibly being stuck in a room full of total strangers talking about my problems. I opened my eyes to see that hers were tearing up again like they had last night and I felt my whole body tense at the pain I felt radiating off of her.

"Alright," I said, willing her not to go on. I didn't think I could take it. "I'll do it."

And as we pulled up to the recreation buildings of a park I had never been to the next day, I could help but think, _What have I gotten myself into?_

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

I sat with my hands twisting in my lap as she cleared her throat. "Hello everyone, my name is Lisa. I'm a group therapy counselor trained to work with young girls such as yourselves," she paused for a second to flash a bright smile, making me twist uncomfortably. She had to be in her mid-twenties. And it didn't help that she had a GREAT body. The kind of body you could tell would take forever to sculpt if you were say, me. "Alright everyone, I want –"

But she was cut off by the door opening loudly in the corner of the room. And in walked the most beautiful girl I've ever seen up close. I'm not kidding. She made you think of what Catherine Zeta-Jones must have looked like as a teenager. All eyes were on her and she flashed an unabashed smile and said, "Sorry I'm late." Her voice was like honey and I was in a trance. Until that lady named Lisa cleared her throat once more. My eyes flitted from Lisa to where the girl was now taking a seat next to me, her chocolate brown locks falling partially into her face. Before she could look up again, I made sure to lock my eyes back onto Lisa, who had continued speaking and was now pointing at me and saying, "…Let's start with you."

"Huh?" I said, furrowing my brows in confusion. I began to notice peoples' eyes on me as I continued to look like an idiot. "Sorry, what was that?" I mumbled, looking up at Lisa half-heartedly.

"Tell us your name and where you go to school," she said, taking a seat in a chair slightly bigger than the rest of ours.

"Oh," I said, caught off-hand. _Well, simple enough_, I thought. "I'm Casey, I go to Jefferson High."

"Alright," Lisa said, a little too merrily if you ask me, "Everyone, say hi to Casey!"

There were mumbled 'heys' and 'hellos' but only one true 'hi Casey' to my right. And I looked to see the pretty girl flashing a small, closed mouth smile and holding out her hand for me to shake. I took it hesitantly and tried to flash her a smile as well, but it turned into more of a grimace and I turned away, feeling my cheeks begin to heat up.

"Okay. You next, please…" Lisa said, pointing to the pretty girl.

"Amy," she said, flashing another smile. "I go to Jefferson too," she added, looking over at me a second before turning to Lisa and everyone else. Instantly my face twisted in further confusion. I had never seen her around. She must be a junior or a senior. More likely than not, it would be the latter. Thoughts such as these bombarded my mind, only lengthening my growing list of questions. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and jerked, seeing Amy looking over at me, a perfectly manicured hand still on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked, seeming strangely concerned.

"Yeah, why?" I said, so it all sounded like one word. She gestured to Lisa, who was handing out index cards, quickly approaching our section of the circle. "Oh," I said simply. I stretched my arm out in anticipation and soon felt the card placed gently in my hand.

"Now, I want you to pretend this is your card," Lisa said after making sure everyone had a card. She was pointing at an easel with a giant version of our cards that asked six questions; Name, nickname, age, grade, I am here because…, and my personal goal is…

I started filling in the blanks as I saw everyone else with their pencils scratching the paper. _"Casey, Case, 16, 10th, I am here because…"_ I paused, taking a moment to bite my lip and look around the room at all the people, bent over their cards, answering the same questions. _"Because I need help."_


	3. Who is She?

Disclaimer: You know. I do not own Life with Derek. All I own are my stories.

A/N: Okay, so I realize that it's probably not very realistic how Casey's eating disorder is being treated, but that's how they handle it in the book 'Perfect' by Natasha Friend. Please read and review afterwards. I'd like to hear what you think and so far only a few people have shared their opinion.

Chapter 3… Who Is She?

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

After the session, I stood outside in front of the building in the cool autumn breeze waiting for my mom to come get me. My head was pretty blank as I stood there, watching a tree's leaves rustle in the wind.

"So… Casey…" I heard a voice say behind me. I turned to see that pretty girl, Amy, wearing a small smile, hands in her sweater pockets, looking at me like you'd look at someone who you've known since you were a kid. "What grade are you in?" she said in an obvious attempt at conversation.

"Ummm…" I said stupidly, looking down at my shoes, "Tenth… You?"

"I'm a senior," she said, confirming what I already knew because I had peeked at what she'd written on her card.

"Oh. Cool," I said lamely, not knowing how to respond.

"Listen," she said quickly after. "I know you've probably heard of me before, but no matter how bad my rep is, I just… I was hoping you could keep this between you and me. Would that be okay?" She actually looked slightly nervous. Rep? What rep? I don't exactly subscribe to the imaginary gossip column at our school, but I still liked to think I knew the biggest rumors. And I could honestly say I knew nothing about hers.

"Okay," I answered, trying to keep the confusion from showing in my face. I heard a car pull up behind me and looked over to see My mom, looking past Lizzie who was in the passenger seat, and motioning for me to get in the car. "Well, I gotta go."

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, 'kay?" Amy called out.

I turned to see her smiling her big smile at me and I called back, "Okay."

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

"Hey Casey," a voice said, close behind me. I turned around to see Amy standing there where Emily would be standing, had she not been sick today. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really," I said, feeling the awkwardness of the situation get to me. I mean, if her rep is as bad as it might be, I don't know if I want to be seen with her.

"Well I was wondering if you were doing anything today after school? Maybe you could come over," she said, smiling.

"Oh," I said, taken aback. I mean, she was so beautiful and she was asking _me_, Casey MacDonald, to come over to her house after school. "Uh…" But I didn't get a chance to answer because I heard a male voice from behind me that I knew all too well.

"Hey, what's up?" I heard Derek ask, his eyes on Amy, looking her up and down.

I rolled my eyes and said, "Excuse my stepbrother. He's a pig."

Amy laughed. "It's alright," she said, glancing over at Derek, in, surprisingly, disgust, "I deal with even worse all the time."

Derek had this shocked look on his face, much like the look two nights ago, but this time he actually spoke, "At least I keep my food." He looked at me. So this was how it was going to be from now on. I glared at him.

"So…" I heard Amy say after a few seconds. "Can you come over or what?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, turning away from Derek.

"Wait a second," Derek said, just as I saw Amy open her mouth to say something. "You're asking to hang out with Casey? You must be crazy."

"Not exactly the way to get to my heart pretty boy," she said, tilting her head. I couldn't help it. I cracked a huge smile. Amy turned to me, flashing a smile as well. "So I'll see you later," she said, biting her lip and turning away from Derek and I, not even giving Derek a second glance.

Derek looked over at me angrily. "Who is she?" he asked.

I turned back to my locker. "Amy something… Why?"

"Amy… I think I've heard of her…" Derek said, his eyes rolled to the corner of his eyelids, as if trying to decipher memories. "Oh yes," he said, a big, proud smirk on his face ", the lesbian party girl."

I froze, turning to look at him for a second. "What? Where the hell did you hear that?"

"Casey, you better watch that foul little mouth of yours. Could get you into a lot of trouble. Oh wait, it already has!" he finished, still smirking widely, leaning against Emily's locker.

"Shut the hell up Derek and answer my question," I said, furiously scooping up the books I needed for English.

"Surprising. I guess you really aren't that smart," he said, beginning to turn around to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said quietly to his back.

"If you were as smart as everyone thinks you are you would have figured out about Amy long before now," he said, just as the bell rang. "Oh, better get to class now Casey, don't want to lose a percent for being tardy," he said in mock worry.

I just huffed angrily and walked as quickly as I could. _Oh the things I'd like to do to shut him up right now… _I thought.

A/N: Lol. It's really not what you're thinking. Or maybe it is. Better read on to find out…


	4. I'm Not Like That Though

Disclaimer: You know. I do not own Life with Derek. All I own are my stories.

A/N: A pretty short chapter. I'm dedicating the next one to all the people who've reviewed chapters 1-3. Thanks so much for sharing your opinion and suggesting a better summary. It helped a lot.

Chapter 4… I'm Not Like That Though

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

The whole rest of the day I twisted uncomfortably in my seat, paying almost no attention in class. Lunch time came and when I went to the bathroom at my usual time to get it out of my system, it hurt even more that usual and my stomach, which usually still felt full after I ridded myself of food, growled in anger and hollowness. I clutched my stomach tightly and managed to get through the rest of the day without acknowledging the pain. I stood by my locker at the end of the day in nervous anticipation, Derek's words still in my mind. _"Oh yes, the lesbian party girl." _ Was it true?

I didn't have much time to contemplate this when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Amy, smiling at me. "Hey, you ready to go?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, picking up my backpack from its resting place on the floor beside me.

"Alright," Amy said, hooking one of her arms in mine in what I hoped was a friendly way, "Let's go."

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

As we pulled up to her house, I couldn't help it. My jaw dropped. It was a mansion. We pulled up the circular driveway and she parked right in front of it, pausing to look at me and laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty big, isn't it?"

"Are you kidding? It's huge!" I answered. Suddenly I felt like a little kid. Using the word 'huge'. How stupid.

Amy didn't seem to notice because she got out of the car and walked around to the front door. "Well?" she called. "Come on!"

I opened the car door hesitantly and followed her in.

The inside was what I'd expected it to be, probably professionally decorated. But I couldn't keep focused on that. All I was thinking of what Amy expected us to do here. I've never even tasted beer or tried drugs. _But what does Derek know anyways_, I thought, watching Amy walk into another part of the house. I followed her into what I knew to be the kitchen. She had her head in the fridge when she called, "What something to drink?"

"Umm…Sure…" I said. "What do you guys have?"

"We have milk, apple juice, and a ton of pop. Just pick whatever," she said, grabbing a diet coke for herself. I took a good look at her. She had to be a size 3. Everything was perfectly proportioned. Her hips were just the right size, her butt was just the right size, her thighs were just the right size… It was seriously sickening to think of her looking in the mirror at herself. Thinking, _Not good enough Amy._

I looked up at her face. She had noticed me looking and smiled, mid-sip. I looked away and blushed until I was sure I was as red as a tomato. I had no clue what to say.

"It's alright," she said, setting her drink on the counter and placing her hands on her hips. "I don't mind," she said, a hint of flirtatiousness that I noticed immediately.

"I'm not like that, though," I said quickly, closing my eyes tightly. I really wasn't checking her out, she had it all wrong. But if I told her what I really was thinking about I thought it would hurt her. And I didn't want to hurt her.

"Oh…" she said. I could see the disappointment in her eyes as we gazed over at one another. Suddenly, she shook her head really fast as if coming out of a trance. "So, you wanna watch a movie?" she asked, grabbing her drink and beginning to walk over to the living room.

"Sure…"

After the movie (in which I sat a foot away from her), I told her I should be getting home. She offered to drive me home. The whole way there, thoughts filled my head. I was so lost in my mind that she had to tap my shoulder to get my attention when we pulled up to my house.

"You alright?" she asked, a look of true concern on her modeling-career-bound face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking," I answered truthfully.

"Well it was cool having you over," she said, wearing a small smile. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

"Yeah," I answered, my voice all breathy like I'd just finished running.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, biting her lip and looking past me at my house. "Say a good 'Go to Hell' to your brother for me," she said, laughing.

I laughed genuinely with her. At least there's one thing I could do to make her happy…


	5. Yeah, I Promise

Disclaimer: You know. I do not own Life with Derek. All I own are my stories.

A/N: So, I'm dedicating this chapter to all the people that have reviewed so far. It's the longest chapter so far. Keep up the reviews! I love hearing what you think! Even if it isn't a compliment. Seriously. And I accept anonymous reviews now, so please stop and take the time to review. Well, that's all I have to say. Enjoy!

Chapter 5… Yeah, I Promise

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

"So…" my mom said after dinner continued in deafening silence. Even Marti was quieter than usual. "Casey, anything interesting happen in school today?"

"Yeah Case, make anymore lesbian friends?" Derek said, swallowing a piece of chicken that had apparently been too much for him to handle. I glared at him.

"What?" my mom said, immediately looking up from her plate, eyes flitting suspiciously from Derek to me.

Derek ignored my mom's inquiry and kept his eyes unblinkingly on me, tilting his head slightly to the side before adding, "Because, she'd have to be a lesbian to turn _me_ down."

"She's not a lesbian. She just has taste," I quipped, meeting his fiery gaze.

"Speaking of taste, have you _tasted_ the chicken?" Derek said, stuffing a piece of said chicken into his mouth afterwards. "Hmm… Yummy…" he said provokingly.

"Derek," George stated warningly, his eyes focusing in on him as if to pose a threat.

"Whatever," Derek mumbled, breaking our heated stare and returning his eyes to his chicken.

"I'm sorry, I can't deal with this right now," I said before getting up and leaving the table as quickly as possible. I heard George say Derek again in exasperation as my mother let out a huge sigh. None of this stopped me as I ran up the stairs, sometimes taking more than one step at a time. When I reached my room, I sat down on my bed and clutched my stomach, feeling the hollowness under my fingers. We hadn't gotten that far into dinner and I hadn't eaten any of it because Derek kept staring at me, like he was challenging me to eat it, like if I did he'd win this little battle he was fighting with me.

I heard my stomach grumble loudly into the silence of my room and got up and took a box out of my closet. My secret stash of food. I swallowed down half of all I had in it and sat for a second, letting my stomach feel the satisfaction of being full and resting my throat before I could unceremoniously yank it all out again.

Leaning against the foot of my bed, I closed my eyes and let my mind take me where it would. Which was back to the beginning of all of this.

"_I can't do this anymore Sam," I said, closing my eyes tight, hoping the pressure would stop the tears from even forming. "I can't keep losing you over and over again. I mean, what am I doing wrong? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not good enough?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly._

"_Casey, it just isn't going to work," Sam said. I felt his eyes on the nape of my neck and heard him sigh. He looked away. "I'm sorry."_

"_I'm sorry too. Sorry for ever getting myself in this mess," I said, standing up so quickly I saw lights in my eyes. My head felt heavy as I made my way back up my porch. I paused for a second to say, "Good bye, Sam. For real this time." _

_I ran up to my room, ignoring the calls from Lizzie and my mom as I closed my door and took off my shirt to put on a bigger, comfier shirt. But I found myself pausing to look in the mirror. My stomach was bloated with food from the break-up dinner with Sam._ You aren't good enough for Sam. Not good enough for anybody.

_I grabbed a big shirt and hastily pulled it over my head before rushing to the bathroom. My head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts about Sam. Saying he's found someone else. Probably a size 0 ditz with perfect blonde hair and a perfect body. I stared at myself in the mirror, lifting my shirt to see my stomach. My ugly, protruding stomach._

So it used to be about being good enough. Now it was really just about having something to control. Or so I told myself.

A few days after that night, I remember finding an old toothbrush and depriving my stomach of dinner.

I shudder every time I think about what I actually do. I clutched my folded legs tightly to my chest, keeping my eyes closed as I rested my head on knees and took a deep, quivering breath.

"Casey?" I jumped at the voice and turned to my closed door. "Can I come in?" Upon hearing the voice again, I recognized it as Derek's and I closed my eyes again.

"No," I said. He came in anyways. As quickly as I could I shoved all the wrappers into the box at my feet and closed the lid. Derek saw the lid close as he came closer.

"What's that?" he asked. I turned to look at him.

"Nothing," I said, clutching it tightly to my stomach.

"Come on, Case," he said gently, in the most un-Derek-like voice I've ever heard. "What's in the box?"

"Well," I said, an answer on the tip of my tongue. "If you absolutely must know it's some um… Stuff that reminds me of Sam. Stuff he gave me or commented on," I said, all while placing it back on the top shelf of my closet.

I smoothed the imaginary wrinkles in my shirt, looking down at the floor, my back to Derek.

"So…" Derek said. I turned just enough to see him standing with his hands in his pockets. I saw his eyes shift down from my face and to my stomach. He sucked in his breath at what he saw. I don't know why. It's close to normal… Well, it never will be, but you know.

He closed his eyes, furrowing his brows and forming a tight line with his mouth. "Uh, where were you today?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Is this what you came in here for? To interrogate me?" I snapped, turning to face him fully, arms over my chest.

His eyes snapped open and he matched my irritated gaze. "No, I actually came to say I'm sorry. For what I said," he said, jaw tensed and jutting out.

"Well," I said huffily, "I'll believe _that_ when you mean it. Get out."

Derek sighed, but for once he listened to me and started to leave. He was in the doorframe when he paused to turn around and say, "I just… care about you Casey." He turned and looked at me, this blank expression on his face. But his eyes. I swear, there was this look in his eyes that made me feel it. Even worse than my mother. I suddenly felt like coming out and saying exactly how I felt about everything. About what I suddenly felt towards him.

But before I could even truly consider this option, I heard his door close softly from across the hall. Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I walked quickly to the bathroom, practically colliding with the door, which was closed to my great frustration.

"Open the hell up!" I yelled, my voice cracking and sounding hoarse.

"I'm busy!" I heard Edwin say.

Oh god. That's another thing about this business. It never smells pretty.

"EWW!" I said. "Well, just hurry up. I need in there," I said, slightly quieter than before.

I heard a slight pause, followed by the flush of the toilet and the running of water from the sink. Then the door opened and a suspicious Edwin stood in front of me. I almost forgot that everyone had found out.

"You're not about to… You know…" Edwin said, his bushy brows colliding above his nose.

"Uh, no," I said. "No I'm not."

Edwin continued to look up at me, this strange look in his eyes, like he was trying to read my mind. "You promise?" he said. I saw his eyes become glassy and hopeful. Just seeing his eyes like that was enough for me to breakdown.

"Yeah, I promise," I said, looking down at the strip of floor between us, chewing on my bottom lip until I was sure it would bleed.

An awkward silence ensued until Edwin stopped trying to make out my thoughts and looked down at the floor as well. "Okay," he said into the electric air between us before passing me quietly and walking up to his room in the attic, leaving the bathroom vacant and smelling disgusting.

_Well_, I thought, _Promises aren't always meant to be kept. And what they don't know won't hurt them… Just me._


	6. How Sick is She?

Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek. Never will.

A/N: Decided to change things up a bit and have Derek's P.O.V. on the whole situation. A pretty small chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 6…How Sick Is She?

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

My words floated around my head. _"I just… care about you Casey." _ My god. Am I that much of a sap? And is that oh so soap drama-sounding statement even true?

I heard some obnoxiously anxious knocking outside, followed by Casey's muffled voice saying, "Open the hell up!"

I shook my head to myself. It must be the bathroom door. She's probably going to do that… Thing she does… Ugh. I can't even think about it without gagging myself.

This whole charade has been rather… Disturbing. I still remember that night at the dinner table.

"_Casey," Lizzie said, breaking the silence and practically slamming her fork down on her plate. "I'm sorry, but I can't take anymore," she said, shaking her head and looking over at Casey, a mixture of worry and anger. _

_I took interest quickly and watched as Lizzie took a deep breath before saying, "Casey is… Bulimic." _

_I swear my heart stopped. _

_I heard necks practically snap as we all turned to look at Casey as if she was the only one in the room. Her eyes were blankly looking at Lizzie, lips pursed tightly. She looked around at all the faces before stopping on mine, connecting eyes with me. I know I must've looked stupid with all that food practically falling out of my mouth and back on my plate. But all my thoughts about anything but Casey were completely clouded. _

What? But Casey's so perfect. So unlikely to even consider doing something like that.

Wait. She does look pretty awful. All gaunt and pale, like she's sick. But… Seriously, it can't be true…

_Suddenly Nora stood up from the table and grabbed Casey by the forearm, gently coaxing her out of the chair. Once she stood, her eyes were only on her mother and we all watched as Nora led Casey out of the room and down into the basement. We stared after them for a few seconds before exchanging a few looks across the table. _

"_Lizzie," Marti said. It was her first word all through dinner. "What does buh-lee-mic mean?" she asked, her brows furrowed in obvious confusion. _

_My dad coughed uncomfortably. I swallowed the food in my mouth. I looked around the table at all the faces, like Casey had done. No one seemed about to answer and my eyes stopped on Marti's, hers on mine. She had her elbows up on the table and was propping her head up with her fists._

"_Well," I began, actually knowing what bulimia was. But to explain it to a seven year old? _

"_It means she's sick," Lizzie said, looking over at me with the stern look on her face that clearly said _'She won't understand.' _I just nodded at her and turned back to Marti._

"_Yep," I said simply. "She's sick." _

"_How sick is she?" Marti asked, eyebrows still bent towards the center of her face. _

"_I don't know, Marti," I said, using her name instead of her nickname. "I don't know…"_

The sound of a door slamming stung my ears and pulled me away from my memories. A shiver ran like a freight train through my nervous system and my ears perked at the sound of the sink running water full blast. I sat up in my bed and looked at the wall beside me like I could see through the walls and into the bathroom. Like I could see what Casey was doing right now. I tried to imagine her, kneeling over the toilet, puking. It was so hard. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw rush into my eyes. I opened my eyes to a blurry version of my room. I looked back at the wall and noticed wetness on my cheeks.

_Oh God. I'm crying, _I thought to myself, wiping the tear's damp trail away with the back of my hand. _What's wrong with me?_


	7. Rosecolored Glasses

Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek.

A/N: Another day, another chapter. And I hope it doesn't seem like I'm making lesbian stereotypes. It really isn't a stereotype that I'm trying to make. Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter 7…Rose-colored Glasses

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, standing up and flushing away the product of my disgusting habit. I turned to the sink and grabbed my toothbrush and started vigorously brushing at teeth and my tongue. I spit out the mix of saliva and toothpaste that had formed. As my head came away from the sink, I paused to look at myself. I looked so… Pale. So sick. It was like I was looking at myself for the first time ever since I'd started all of this.

I lifted my shirt and sucked in my breath at what I saw. Every time before when I had looked, I must have been wearing rose-colored glasses because I don't remember my body looking so thin and hollowed out, like I was a carcass. It was scary. I could see a distinct outline of my ribs even when I puffed my stomach out to make it look fuller. I looked up at my face. There were deep etches of circles under my eyes. My cheeks looked swollen and red, like I'd been sun burnt. My eyes left the mirror and I looked down at my hands, calloused and dry. And the place I constantly wiped my mouth against looked red and dry. I looked back up at the mirror and bared my teeth. They were no longer their bright white from before, but were now a shade of off-white. My hair was thinner than ever before, turning a mousy color.

Before I could stop myself, I collapsed to the floor, sobs coursing through my throat, making me want to scream in pain each time I felt them come. Tears ran down my reddened cheeks and I pressed my face into my knees, rocking myself back and forth, back and forth in attempt to calm my sobs, which became irregular hiccupping breaths.

I heard the doorknob rattle and a hand slap the door a few times. "Casey!" I heard. It was Derek. "Casey, open up!" I heard his voice crack.

Slowly I got up from the floor, wiping at the tears that kept on coming. I didn't say anything in retaliation. Just walked to the door, unlocked it and opened hesitantly.

I felt new tears come to my eyes as I saw him standing there. His eyes were puffy from crying and I found the sight painful to see. I closed my eyes tightly and brought my lips into my mouth to stop the sobs that were begging to be released.

"Casey…" Derek said. He sounded so distant. Then all of a sudden I felt his arms incase me in a tight embrace. I felt myself give in to the warmth of his body against my cold practically dead one. I felt as he pressed tightly against me, his toned stomach filling into my curved in one. The sobs couldn't be held back any longer and I felt it as I caused both our bodies to shake, my tears dampening the right shoulder of his shirt, but he made no comments, said nothing, and just held me like that for what I thought was forever, slowly stroking my thin, dull hair. I felt sleep pulling at me and my body fell harder against his. He noticed this and stood back, placing his hands on either of my shoulders, lowering his face to look at me head on, his eyes even puffier than before.

"Let's get you to bed," he said awkwardly, as if not sure what else to say.

I just nodded my head and followed him into my room. He lifted the covers from my bed and waited for me to climb in, his eyes still on me. One of his hands flew to his face and wiped at the wetness, looking away just for a second.

Once I'd crawled shakily under the covers, he lifted the comforter so it stopped just below my jaw, pausing to say leaned over me, just looking at me, his eyes darting across my face. And for the first time I saw something in his eyes besides pride. Worry. About me. I turned away, closing my eyes tight and shifting so I had my back to him.

I heard him sigh, like he'd been holding his breath. I heard his footsteps walking to the door.

"Thank you Derek," I suddenly said, in a voice that was so far from the one I'd had two months ago. I heard him pause. I turned slightly, just enough to see him. "Really."

I saw him nod, looking me straight in the eye, before turning away, facing the hallway. "Good night Casey."

I watched as the light from the hallway slowly ebbed away before I was thrown into complete darkness and exhaustion.


	8. Not After Something Like This

Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek.

A/N: Very sorry about not updating sooner. The site is really whacked out. It took forever and a day of negotiation just to upload this one chapter. Needless to say, it's all been very frustrating.

Chapter 8… Not After Something Like This…

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

I felt my eyes twitch with discomfort as I continued to look at the monitor of my computer, a sharp brightness in the surrounding darkness. The website came up and I reached for the mouse.

'Call a professional immediately to discuss the options if you or someone you know has an eating disorder. Do not take a wait-and-see approach.'

I scrolled down quickly and found a hotline number at the bottom of the screen. I then proceeded to search frantically for my cell phone to find it was right next to the computer. Sighing at my stupidity, I reached for it and dialed the number of the hotline.

"Hello, this is a confidential hotline, how may I help you tonight?" a female voice stated at the other end.

"Yeah, hi, my stepsister. She's bulimic… She uh, just started group therapy sessions, but I think she's still… Well, you know…" I said quickly, rambling it all out quietly. Tears stung at my eyes. This all was so insane. The skin of my stomach was still tingling where I had felt how concave she was.

"Okay… Has she been diagnosed yet? And have your parents considered other options of treatment?" she asked.

"I don't know if she's been diagnosed or anything, but I overheard that money's tight so they can't afford a hospital trip or anything like that…" I said, rubbing at the sleep in my eyes.

"Most Insurance companies can cover most of those costs. Do you know the name of your family Insurance Company?"

"Uh, Canada Health I think," I said, staring up at the ceiling.

I heard the clicking of a keyboard on the other line. "Well, Canada Health unfortunately does not cover that many treatment options. But it does cover a trip to the doctors to get diagnosed."

"Great, who do I call?" I asked, searching for a pen and paper.

"Okay, you ready?" she asked.

I picked up a piece of paper from the floor and poised the pen above its surface. _God, my hand is shaking…_

"Yeah."

"Okay, the number is 555-8274 for Dr. Knowles office. He specializes in matters of the digestive tract. Hours are 8 to 6. I suggest you set up an appointment within the next three days," she said. "Anything else I can do?"

"Uh…" I said, wondering if I should really talk to her about it. "What could make someone do something like this? I mean, she used to be so confident…"

"Well, it's usually a need to be perfect or have control. After a while it feels like the only thing you can control…" she said. I could swear she was talking from past experience.

"This whole thing is so scary. No one knows how to talk to her… I was kind of mean to her about it, but I think… I think it's just 'cause I want things to go back to normal," I finished.

"I understand… But… You need to realize… After something like this, it's never really normal again…" she said.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of…"

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

"Dad, I think we should call a doctor about all of this," I said the next morning as my dad brushed his teeth.

He leaned slightly to spit before looking into the mirror at me. "Don't worry Derek. We already have. We have an appointment all set for Friday. Just… It's best that you stay out of all of this," he said, returning the brush to its holder and passing me into his bedroom.

"Dad, I just… I just want to help," I said, keeping my eyes on his face as he turned to look at me in disbelief.

"Last night you were a pain in the ass. Where is all this coming from?" my dad said, looking away from me and at his dresser, pulling the top drawer open and picking out a pair of socks.

"Well, I just feel really bad about that," I said, watching him proceed to look through his button-up shirts.

He paused his impatient ruffling of hangers and turned to me. "Well, you could be a little more encouraging for starters," he said, a bit of anger traceable in his voice.

"Alright," I said. He just went back to picking out a shirt.

Noticing that my presence was no longer exactly welcome, I trudged back up to the kitchen to see that Casey still wasn't there. Just Edwin.

"Where's Casey?" I asked, taking a seat at the counter and rubbing at my eyes. I had ended up talking to that chick for another hour. It really did calm me down, but after I hung up, more questions came and I finally just fell into this on and off sleep.

"Long night, D?" Edwin asked, taking a long sip of orange juice.

"Sure," I said, not really pausing to hear his response before repeating my question. "Where's Casey?"

"I don't know. Lizzie just went up there to check on her I think," Edwin said, setting down his glass and casting me a distressed look. "This is all pretty serious isn't it?" he asked. I don't think he even truly knew what exactly was going on, but I nodded all the same.

"Yep, it is," I said. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed two figures coming down the stairs. It was Lizzie, followed by a reluctant, exhausted looking Casey.

"Finally got her up," Lizzie stated uncomfortably once they reached the kitchen. My eyes met with Casey's for a grand total of three seconds, before she broke the contact and moved around the counter.

"Is it your personal goal to make me miserable," Casey snapped, taking a seat on the other side of Edwin, head held precariously in her hands.

"I'm just trying to help," Lizzie snapped back. I looked over at her in surprise. She just never struck me as the angry type.

Casey just sighed and slid off the stool. "I'm gonna go get ready."

Once she was out of earshot, I turned to look at Lizzie. "You shouldn't talk to her like that," I said, "This is all hardest on her."

"I know that, but she's just so… Irritable. And she acts like we have no idea what she's going through, like life is so hard on just her," Lizzie said, shaking her head in frustration.

"Yeah, but Liz, we really don't know what it is she's going through," I said, shaking my own head to further prove my point. I mean, really, we have no idea. Sure, talking to that chick last night had helped me to understand Casey's choices a lot better, but I still felt pretty lost.

Lizzie just sighed, clearly aggravated with everyone. "I'm gonna go get ready too," she said, pushing out of her leaning position against the counter.

Edwin shook his head. "Women," he said.

"You have no idea."


	9. What I'd Change

Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek. If I did it would not be rated TV-G.

A/N: I really don't know the nicknames given to people with eating disorders, so I really don't know if the 'bingers' are even called that. Anyways, the computer I'm writing the story on is like, stuck, so I'm uploading these chapters on a different computer. Sorry for the wait. I know in the beginning I updated right away, but I think I'm going to wait until it reaches 150 hits on the new chapter before I post the next chapter. And school is starting in 2 days, which hasn't even registered in my brain yet. Well, enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 9… What I'd Change

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

Wednesday marked the next group therapy session. A few of the girls greeted each other with hugs and waves. I only really knew Amy. And she wasn't there yet when I got there. So I just sat there, twisting my hands in my lap again. Finally, Amy slipped in and took the vacant seat next to me in the circle. I really don't know why she even talks to me. I'm definitely not the next best looking after her in this room. I'm probably the worst, judging by what I saw last night.

I looked out at the bunch of us. Most of them just looked like bingers, just chicks who ate a bit less than the normal calorie requirement and exercised a lot, which had their rich parents all worried. I wasn't sure if Amy was just a binger. But while I was at her house we never did get around to eating anything. And I heard grumbles from her stomach every once and a while. Or maybe it was all me. But I'd think that she'd say something.

"What?" I heard Amy ask. I had been staring at her.

"Nothing," I said quickly, looking away to see Lisa approaching our mismatched group. Suddenly I started thinking about Lisa. I mean, she's like a teacher to me. But, with my teachers at school I could talk to them about stuff. But it was stupid stuff, like my grade on a test or a project. Not my tendency to rush to the bathroom and wrench a meal out of my stomach with the help of my trusty toothbrush.

"Alright," Lisa said, taking her seat and the head of the circle, setting her stuff down around her. "Welcome back! You all brought notebooks this time, right?" Most of us nodded simultaneously and pulled out our notebooks. The few that had forgotten whispered pleas for some paper to their friends. "Good. Those will be your journals. Those of you who forgot," she said, with a little laugh, "don't worry about it. Just try to remember next time. So, I suppose you're wondering what exactly we'll need those notebooks for. Well, today we're going to write up lists. Two to be exact. In one list, I want you to write down some of the things you like about yourself, as far as your body goes. And in the other I want you to write the things you'd change. Don't worry, this is all confidential," Lisa finished. A few of them had begun writing already. Lisa passed out pencils to the people who needed them and then they were off. And so I decided to get on with it too. I paused when I heard Amy's pencil scratching against the paper frantically. I couldn't help but wonder if it was all for the 'things I'd change' list…

Instead of peeking like I had last week, I just shook my head. It really was none of my business.

"_Things I like about myself," _I wrote on one side. Then I proceeded to sit there, thinking if there was anything I ready did like about myself. What was the point of this list? At least, to me, there was no point. But like a good sport, I decided I couldn't leave it blank. _"My eyes."_ I figured that would be enough and proceeded to write on the opposite side, _"Things I'd change." _I figured I'd keep it sweet and short and to the point. _"Everything except my eyes." _Well, not exactly sweet, but what do you expect in a situation like this?

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

"Hey Case," Amy said, bumping me in the shoulder with her elbow after the session as we stood outside. Did I forget to mention she's tall? Yeah, she's about six inches taller than me. "What's up?"

"Not much," I said, squirming in light of what had happened at her house.

"Heh. Your brother still an inconsiderate ass?" she asked, a small smile gracing her glossy lips.

"Actually," I began, remembering last night, but I really didn't want to talk about last night… "Uh, yeah. Nothing new. He was the epitome of inconsiderate asses at dinner last night."

"Oh yeah? What happened?" she said, actually sounding more than just slightly interested.

I was considering telling her what he'd said about her being a lesbian party girl. And before I could stop myself, I blurted out, " 'Make anymore lesbian friends?' ", mocking how Derek had said it.

There was a pregnant pause, which Amy chose to break with a bitter laugh. "That's rich," she said, in an unreadable tone.

"But… Are you?" I found myself asking, my curiosity evident.

"No," she scoffed. "I suppose he told you I party hard as well…Well, I have partied hard in the past, but I swear, I gave it up a long time ago," she said, looking out in the distance at a tree across the street. After a few seconds of silence passed, she laughed. "I had to get my stomach pumped once," she said, her smile still on her face. I just looked at her, furrowing my brows. How would you smile at a memory like that? "Yeah, that wasn't much fun," she said, still laughing.

"I'll bet," I mumbled.

"Yeah, anyways, my birthday is Friday night. The big one eight. I'm having a party. Can I you make it?" she asked. "I promise we won't party… Too hard," she said, a sly smile playing on her face.

I felt my face freeze and my eyes locked on her. She was crazy if she thought I would even have a sip of beer. But she looked so hopeful that I'd come… And after all, someone had to be there to make sure she didn't get into too much trouble. "Sure," I said. "What time do you want me to be there?"

"Oh any time after 6," she said. Then she nodded towards something behind me. "That your mom?" I turned to see my mom leaning over the steering wheel, and jerking her head in a gesture for me to get in the car.

"Yeah…" I said, letting my voice trail off into the wind.

"Alright. See you Friday," Amy said, taking brisk steps to her car, looking over her shoulder at me to smile one last time.

"Who was that?" my mom asked as I buckled in.

"Oh. That's Amy," I said. "She goes to my school." I was nervous. I wasn't sure how comfortable I was talking about Amy to my mom. Like she'd trust anything I say. Well, I guess she has an adequate reason not to trust me…

"Oh," my mom said. "Well, she looks quite a bit older than you," she said, playing that overprotective parent card. Like I said, I can't blame her. But this whole thing about everyone treating me like I'm going to split down the middle and crack open is really getting to me…

"Yeah," I said, looking back out at the parking lot. "She's turning eighteen on Friday. Can I go to her party? I uh, kinda said I would," pretending to adjust my seat belt to avoid the 'I-don't-know' expression on her face.

"I don't know…" See? What'd I tell you… "I mean, is she the one… The one Derek mentioned?"

I just sighed. "Yeah, but mom, she told me herself just now she's not a lesbian, it's just a rumor," I said, not sure who exactly I was trying to convince.

"Well, I mean, as long as I can meet with her parents before Friday, then I don't see the problem. And as long as they'll be there during the party," she said, every once and a while moving her hands animatedly along the steering wheel.

"Oh," I said. Well, considering I've never even met her parents before, I wasn't so sure that was going to happen… I don't even know Amy's phone number. Or where her locker is. Or what her classes are. I know almost nothing about her! Except that her car is a pretty shade of blue… Okay I'm getting way ahead of myself… "Uh, I met them. Very protective. Even more than you and George," I said, my hands meeting above my lap to twist in anxiety. I really do hate lying. Especially to her. But just like everything else bad, do it once, do it twice, then it becomes a habit…

"Ha ha," she said, a small smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. It was the first time I'd seen her do anything remotely close to a smile since that night in the basement… "Very funny. Well… Alright. When does it start?"

Wow. This is definitely a surprise. I expected her to keep pushing to meet them. But maybe she's opting to wait until we get home to call the FBI and get a full background report. I wouldn't put it past her…

"6."

"Alright. Well then, lets make a deal. You come with me to the doctor's to get diagnosed and I'll let you stay until 11," she said, her voice faltering at 'doctor's'. Wait… What about the doctor's? Get diagnosed? As bulimic? Who wants that?

"What?" I asked, my eyes staying intently on her face.

"Well, we uh, need to diagnose you as… as bulimic," she said, pulling into our driveway and cutting the engine, throwing me a cautious glance.

"Why?" I said, well, sort of screamed. Why did I need to be diagnosed as having a history with bulimia? Why'd I need to go and make sure there's a big black mark on my health record? "I mean, what good will it do?"

"Casey, we just need to do it," she said, that and-that's-that tone apparent in her voice.

"If I do… do I have to get treated?" I asked. I still don't know how I feel about getting treated. But it would be so… Strange… I mean, making weight gain a goal, rather than evading it like the plague? I don't know if I could handle that…

"No, we can't afford it… But Casey, we have to do this. They need to know…" she said, reaching over and taking one of my dry calloused hands in hers, frowning slightly at the feeling and rubbing her thumb gently over my knuckles.

I closed my eyes tightly, hoping she wouldn't comment. "Alright," I answered, taking my hand out of hers and placing it on the door handle. "Deal," I added, leaving her there in the car to go into the house.

Hey, I owed her this much… And so much more.


	10. With a Thud

Disclaimer: Don't own Life with Derek.

A/N: 150 hits, time for a new chapter. Not sure of the gender or name of their English teacher, so don't crucify me. Lol.

Chapter 10… With a Thud

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

Friday had come. Usually my favorite day of the week. No homework to do my best to ignore, and a ton of people in a good mood. But the only person that mattered anymore was sitting there in English clutching her stomach with one hand, and writing occasional notes with the other, all while looking completely exhausted and anxious.

"Hey Derek," a husky voice said from behind. It was Erika. One of my, for lack of a better word, _girlfriends. _I go on one date with her two months ago and she thinks she can walk up to me in the hall way and hook arms with me and call me sweetie pie. It's happened before, but it doesn't usually last this long.

I suddenly and completely felt my The Derek demeanor slip through my fingers as I turned around and said, "Don't even think about calling me honey. We only went on one date. One first and FINAL date. Back off before I make sure it's your last date with anyone."

She just sat there with her mouth in what I'm sure she thought was an attractive O. I just darkened my glare before turning back around to see Casey blinking heavy lidded eyes in attempt to stay awake. I heard Erika make a humph sound, but paid no mind. Suddenly Casey twitched to life again and sat very straight in her seat, closing her eyes tight and clutching her stomach with both hands, taking a deep shuddering breath.

"Ms. MacDonald?" Mr. Treach asked, eyebrows bent to the center of his face. "Do you want to go to the nurse?"

He'd asked her this a few times before this week. I looked at Casey, practically on the edge of my seat in anticipation of her answer. Probably another damn excuse. And he, of course, will believe every word of it. When did Casey get so good at lying? Right then her breath suddenly became erratic and I saw her eyes become eerily glassy.

"I –"

Oh my god.

She just… Just fell out of her seat. And to the ground. With a thud.

I felt my legs bring me to my feet and rushing to Casey, breaking through the crowd of students forming, standing on their toes for a better view.

"Someone call 911!" I heard a male voice yell, fallowed by murmured agreement. I heard Mr. Treach dial the numbers hurriedly.

"Get… Out… Of the fucking… Way!" I yelled, rushing through the last few students in my path, not very interested in whether or not I caused injury to someone. I felt my breath heaving in my chest once I reached the center to see Casey lying there, one hand still on her stomach.

I felt my knees hit the floor, my hand consciously reaching out to touch her hand. I felt her dry skin under my fingertips and my chin quivered. Tears spilt across the barrier. My hand left her hand and explored her hollow body unsteadily. I felt sobs rush up my throat and I closed my eyes, willing them not to escape.

"Casey," I whispered. But it wasn't my voice. It wasn't me. It was someone I didn't want to acknowledge. Someone I didn't want anyone to know about. It was the one that had talked to that chick that night, crying silently. It was the one that had hugged Casey so tightly, hoping they could just become one and he could take all the pain away. It was the one that had willingly fallen in love with the Casey from before. The Casey that used to be alive.

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

I felt the bright light penetrate my eyelids and seep into my eyes and beyond, a sharp pain coursing through my mind. I opened my eyes to a sickeningly bright halogen light above me. I was on my back, a firm bed beneath me that bent up ever so slightly.

_Oh no…_

Where the hell was I?

My hands scrambled for the bars on either side of my bed and I tried hard to sit up, but I felt a tugging in my right arm. _Oh no… _An IV. I tried to look around for anything that might help get it out. I can't keep it in there you know.

But I paused my search when I spotted Derek, curled up in a recliner, clutching his knees to himself loosely. _What is he doing here? _My insensitive (well, 90 on the time) jerk of a stepbrother. And he was sitting there, eyebrows furrowed even in what looked like a pretty deep sleep.

I just let out a breath I had no knowledge of having held and resumed my search, although considerably quieter. I didn't want to draw any attention. If they knew what I was trying to do… Well, we just can't let them know.

Surprisingly I felt better than I had the past week. My stomach felt full (probably from the IV), but I can only let that last for so long. I really had to get out of there.

I located a spork on a tray of food to my left. It would just have to do. I grabbed it hesitantly and brought it too my right arm, cautiously digging it under the IV cord and to its junction with my skin. I began pulling the spork down and away from my arm, but quickly stopped at the jolt of pain it caused through my arm.

"Ah," I let out into the air around me. I paused to take a deep breath in attempt to stifle the pain, listening absent-mindedly to the beeping of the machine next to my bed. The beeping seemed to grow louder as I leaned back reluctantly into the stiff hospital mattress. Soon I was in a trance, feeling my head begin to spin painfully as the beeping continued to nip at my ear buds, ringing in my brain. It wasn't until the sound of soft rustling joined the mix that my trance was broken and I felt myself snap to attention to see Derek getting up from his resting spot, his back to me.

I continued to watch him, unintentionally gripping to spork tighter until the plastic ridges left marks in my skin. It was still under my IV, and it wasn't until Derek looked away from the chair and over at me with this strange look on his face that I remembered where I was holding it. I quickly scrambled to place it back on the tray, but by then it was too late…

A/N: Well, I know it's turned a bit dramatic, but... Ah, I have no excuse. And in other news, I am finally coming out and revealing my addiction to adverbs, such as 'slightly' and 'considerably'... Again, I have no excuse.


	11. Stealing the Scissors

Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek.

A/N: So, here's the next chapter. Had to post it before school. Enjoy.

Chapter 11… Stealing the Sissors

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

I felt my eyes widen at the sight. A slightly healthier-looking Casey, leaning back in her bed, a blank look etched into her face and a spork digging into her arm. Right under her IV. My head raced with thoughts until everything felt like it was either going to blur into white or sharpen until everything was black. Even as she caught my eyes in hers and quickly moved to place the utensil back on her tray of food, everything felt so surreal. Like I was going to wake up at any moment. You don't know how bad I wish this were all just a dream.

She stayed sitting up, not breaking our stare, her mouth slightly parted, as if waiting for me to say something so she could explain. Or whatever it was that she wanted to say.

"What were you doing with that thing?" I said, opting to put my arms loosely across my chest, not exactly in a way that said 'You better tell me now or you're going to be encountering an angry Derek', but more in a way that said 'Tell me, please. It's concerning.'

She just swallowed and broke our conversational gaze. "You know what I was doing Derek, don't play dumb," she said quietly, pleadingly even. I just stared at her. I knew she wanted to say more than that. I could almost _see _words on the tip of her tongue. Which brought a whole mental picture to the back of my head, but never mind that. She just had so much more to say.

"I know what you were doing, I was just hoping I was having hallucinations or something. Doesn't sound like such a bad idea right now. Drugs would make this all a hell of a lot easier to take," I let out in a ramble, not exactly thinking before speaking. Apparently it was a very wrong thing to say, because I saw Casey look away from her hands and fix me with a teary, yet fiery stare.

"Sorry to be so much of a burden!" she spat, keeping her eyes on mine until she chose to lean back resolutely into her bed, continuing her intense glare with the ceiling above as if determined to burn a hole in the papier-mâché tiles.

I felt an exasperated sigh escape my throat as I struggled to find a response to her abrupt anger. "I didn't mean it like that Case. God!" I said, well, sort of screamed. I ran a hand shakily through my bed-ridden hair and looked irritably down at the floor, casting it a gaze similar to Casey's. It just gleamed back at me, hard, cold, plastic, and completely unsympathetic and unavailing.

I looked up to see Casey with the spork in her hand again, right arm stretched in anticipation of contact with the flimsy instrument. "Casey!" I yelled, infuriated, advancing quickly on her and attempting to steal the stupid thing from her white knuckled hand. What the hell was she thinking anyway?

She just turned slightly in her bed so my hand came in forceful contact with her elbow, which must've forced the spork's prongs into her skin because she gasped in slight pain. She cast me a tearful glance over her shoulder before turning back to her arm. "You don't understand," she said, in a voice so low I had to listen hard to hear over the incessant beeping filling the room. "I have to get it out. I just… I have to…"

Her body started shaking in small, suppressed sobs and I brought my hand away from her shoulder and around her body, enveloping her in a small, but firm hug from behind. She made no response at first, but slowly she became more and more receptive, leaning into me, letting her sobs get louder. I had placed my head on her shoulder and saw her grip on the utensil loosen gradually until it slipped from her fingers and she turned herself around in her bed slowly to face me, my own grip on her loosening just enough for her to turn to me.

She looked like she was in so much pain; she looked so broken, so hollowed out. Like the world was so close to done with her and she herself wanted to be gone. And I suddenly understood why she might want to get that IV out. It was her lifeline, practically the last string to cut before she could finally have her way and leave, no matter what kind of mess she left behind. But I'd just stolen away the scissors and brought her crashing through the earth from the cold dark hell she'd spun herself into. I felt the room become too bright and nauseating as I continued to stare into her red, tumid eyes, the windows to her flickering light of a soul. She pulled me hard against her, but it wasn't close enough. I needed to break her free of her chains, chains she wasn't yet strong enough to break. But if she could just know how much at that very moment that I cared for her in a way I hadn't cared for anyone else and couldn't for the life of me fully explain. If she only knew…

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

The moment the spork left my hand I asked 'Why?'. Why was he doing this to me? Why was he stopping me from doing the one thing I need to do? I screwed up my face in rage, anger, anguish. Every emotion to do with pain seemed to be on overload. I felt myself close my eyes tight as my chin quivered. And suddenly all will to go on left and I felt drained of all energy. It had taken me so much destruction to reach this point; a point I never wanted to accomplish reaching. Discovering that I wanted to be gone, that I actually wanted to kill myself, made every movement too much to take. Even as I fell into Derek's body I cringed and swallowed down even more pain to turn to face him. I stopped to look into his eyes. Hurt. It's all I saw. And I tried to look away but I was trapped in it. Drowning in it. Hurt that I've caused him. Hurt that I've caused myself.

And then I saw his face leaning in, coming closer to mine with each second. My mind blared with unfinished thoughts that all left my mind as soon as I felt his lips on the numbing skin of my forehead, my cheeks, my chin, soft, slow kisses, slower even still as his lips came closer to mine. A sob caught in my throat and I quickly swallowed it down, closing my eyes for just a second before opening them to Derek's eyes on mine, flitting from my eyes to my lips. We were so close. I felt my mind shut down as I felt his breath on my lips. It was hot and moist, tentative, completely amazing. It was the only thing in that one moment that made sense.

His hand came to my cheek as I felt him cutting through the air between us. And then finally. His lips, slightly parted, met with mine. And the world exploded.


	12. Bye Casey

Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek.

A/N: So here's another chapter. Thank you all so much for reviewing. If I got more reviews, I might review at 100 hits. Hehe. There's a nice little gimmick for you. Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter 12... "Bye Casey."

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

No, the world did not actually explode. More like shifted around completely on its axis. Because almost as soon as Derek's lips met mine, they left. My lips tingled from the lingering essence of the pressure as I felt his arms leave my body. I opened my closed eyes to see him backing slowly out of the room, jaw practically dragging on the floor underneath him until he whipped around and walked briskly out of the room.

Oh my god.

I watched his retreating figure through the partially curtained floor to ceiling windows of my room, until two new figures passed by Derek, confused looks gracing their faces. My mom and George appeared in my doorway soon after, pausing to look at me for a second. Must've looked horrible, because their eyes began to widen, mouths opening to ask questions I'm sure they wanted answers to, but I was saved (again, not exactly) by a tall Black man in his 40s wearing a white doctor's coat, side-stepping my parents into the room, a clipboard in one hand.

"Ah, good. You're up," he said, a small smile showing.

Against my will. Right then I wanted to return to my task of removing this thing that was keeping me awake and alive and full. But two months in a psych-ward would be even more hideous than the current situation.

I watched the smile fade off of his face as we connected eyes. And his eyebrows furrowed.

"You look upset," he said. Yeah, I sure as hell am upset. Who the hell do you think you are keeping me alive? You don't know what this is doing to me. "Anything I can do?" Well, for starters you could get this thing out of my arm. Then, well, I'm not sure if doctor-assisted suicide is legal in Canada or not.

I prayed that I was conveying all of this in our strange gaze, but it seemed I wasn't, as he broke our correlation to glance at my mom and George, who were currently looking back and forth from the doctor to me.

Not exactly thinking at the time, I said, "Yeah, this IV. It's very uncomfortable."

And then he sighed, as if expecting this kind of question from me, or rather, someone like me. "It always is at first. And in light of the current situation, removing it is not exactly an option," he said carefully, a doctor's demeanor returning in his voice.

"Oh," I said. I felt my sobs come rushing up to respond to this disheartening news. But I swallowed them down and muttered, "Right."

And suddenly I hated him. With a passion. I hated him so much, I wanted to take that spork and use it to gouge his ugly brown eyes slowly out of his head. The thought brought a gruesome mental image to my mind that I tried to shake.

I grudgingly leaned back into the bed with a heavy sigh, eyes staring out into space. Then I heard the doctor cough. _Hem, hem. _You know that cough, the one people use to break uncomfortable silences.

"The bleeding has slowed down considerably, and –"

Bleeding? What bleeding? "What?" I said, my eyes almost ejecting themselves from my head to look over at the doctor, focusing on him as if the answer to my question would mean all the difference. Which it kind of did.

He turned his attentions from my parents and onto me, fixing me with a somewhat sympathetic stare. "There was slight bleeding along the walls of your esophagus. Nothing to worry about now though, because as I said," he turned back to mom and George, "The bleeding has gone down considerably. You should be able to leave within the next 4 days."

"But," I began, turning to my mom and remembering our conversation in the car, "I thought we couldn't afford –"

"Casey, don't worry about that," she said, willing me not to continue with my question. I could tell she was embarrassed about it. About not being able to afford all of this. Which only made me hate that IV in my arm and everything else around me even more.

"Yeah Case, we'll take care of it," George said, attempting a smile that curved into more of a grimace. His voice had cracked.

And then I noticed how puffy my mom's eyes were. And it all became too much. My head began to pound. I needed to get out. And soon.

And then I remembered something. "What time is it?" I asked, looking around the white room for a clock.

"It's…" the doctor said, looking down at his watch, "9:30."

Well, I missed the beginning of Amy's party, but I'd take whatever I could get.

"Okay," I said, trying to smile, but it hurt too much.

Everyone in the room was casting glances at me, then at each other as another awkward silence ensued.

"I'm tired. I'm gonna go to sleep now," I said, hoping this would cause them to leave.

But not before my mom made her way across the room to stand at the left side of my bed. "Alright. I love you Casey," she said, her voice quivering at the word 'love'. As if asking me why I was doing this to myself. I knew the answer would only intensify the hurt in her eyes even more.

"We all love you, Case," George added, coming up behind my mom, his hands in his pockets, a worried look on his face.

I closed my eyes tightly to stop the tears. Then I realized this might be the last time I see them. "I love you too," I said, eyes still closed, now to avoid their teary gazes filled with questions I wasn't ready to answer.

Nothing else was left to be said. And I opened my eyes to see the doctor had left and George was leading my mom out. She paused a second at the doorway to look at me one more time.

"Bye Casey."


	13. Blink

Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek.

A/N: So I'm gonna be gone for about five days, but I'm still going to write. Or try too.

Chapter 13… Blink

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

What… in the hell… was that!

I didn't even answer my dad and Nora's inquiries as I rushed past everything. I needed out. Everything was too bright. I needed the dark. Where my thoughts might be hushed. Where fear might drown them out.

I finally found an exit door and pushed hard against it, using more force than needed. The door fell heavily behind me with an unearthly sound that caused me to jump.

Well, it wasn't total darkness. I was standing in front of a practically empty parking lot. Complete with those annoying light posts emitting ugly orange-yellow light over everything.

There were no steps and nothing to sit down on, so I just backed into the door and slid down.

I thanked God it was quiet. Well, except for the freeway about a block away from the parking lot. But even that could be muted by my thoughts.

I wanted to do more than what I'd done. But right when our lips met, I remembered. She's my stepsister. And I remembered the weird looks from everyone in English as I broke down right there on the floor, my uncontrollable sobs filling the room. I had felt someone try to place a comforting hand on my back, but I shook it off and looked around me to see Sam kneeling next to me. And I just turned and hugged him, tight. And he hugged me back. It didn't feel awkward because it was exactly what I needed. But I had a feeling Sam had something to do with all of this. Like that night the last time they broke up. I knew Sam was going to tell her he'd found someone else. He did. And I was actually proud of him. Or at least, that's what I'd convinced myself I was.

The paramedics came and I said I wanted to ride in the car with them. No one objected, not even Mr. Treach. I remember one of them trying to talk to me on the way to the hospital.

"_We're gonna do all we can to help her…" some guy said. He was about 21 with messy black hair and sharp blue eyes. "Is she your girlfriend?"_

_My eyes left Casey's face to look at him a second. "No… My stepsister."_

"_Oh," he said awkwardly. _

See? No one would ever accept the feelings I have. I bet Casey's in there, thinking about how disgusting it was to have me kissing her.

The thought caused me to stand up rather quickly. Well, quick enough to feel my head spin from the pressure. And I began to walk towards the parking lot and around to the front the hospital, not glancing back until I reached the sidewalk.

"Bye Casey," I said quietly, as if I was still standing there kissing her.

And then I went to lean on the bus stop pole, thinking.

A trip to the States sounds nice… 

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

After she closed the door, I sat still in my bed for a moment, like if I could sit still enough, that's how I'd be for the rest of my life. My eyes were painfully fixed on the door, but once I wrenched them away, I looked back at the food tray. The spork was still intact. I stared at it a moment, my mother's words reverberating throughout my thoughts. _I love you, Casey. _

She loved me. And I was about to rip that piece of her heart to shreds. Just because I didn't want to be better. I don't think I'll ever get better. Which is why I have to do this. Maybe it's not so selfish. I won't be such a burden anymore. Just a memory. Albeit a pretty messed up one, but still…

With a shaking hand, I gripped the spork tight in my hands. And preceded to remove everything attached to me (Don't even get me started on how painful it was to remove the catheter…) until it was just me in a hospital gown, sitting precariously at the edge of the bed. I quickly scanned the room for a bag, something that held normal clothes. And I looked through the dresser near my bed. And there, in a plastic bag, were my clothes and jewelry. I sighed with relief. Grabbing them, I rushed (Well, as quickly as someone in my condition can.) to the corner of the room, searching for the most privacy even though no one could see.

After pulling on each article of clothing carefully (I was still sore from whatever they did…), I looked out the windows of my room. The ones that viewed a dark, cloudy sky, completely devoid of a moon. And I saw that I was (thankfully) on the first floor.

I walked closer to the window and reached up to the latch. _Click._

_Fuck, _I thought, covering my ears quickly at the shrill ringing that was suddenly pulsing through the building, so loud I thought I felt the floor vibrating beneath me.

So I'd left out the possibility of alarms.


	14. Gone

Disclaimer: I don't own LWD.

A/N: I have absolutely no excuse. I just hope you can still enjoy this. Well, here it is…

Chapter 14… Gone

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

"Derek, what are you doing?" I heard Edwin's meek voice, only it sounded like it was playing in stereo, filling the room and my head. The ensuing silence only made it louder and I broke the mystic stance with a simple answer.

"I can't stay here," I said, shoving the last clean shirt in violently, then zipping the bag up. The biggest bag I could carry.

Well, you didn't think I was gonna go to the states looking like a hobo, now did you?

I stood up from my kneeling position quickly, snatching up my wallet and shuffling through it. I had about $400 dollars. I'd have to grab Dad's old credit card on the way out. I'd used it a few times before and I silently prayed that it'd still work.

"Where are you going to go?" he asked, staring up into my eyes, my soul, searching for an answer.

"Sam's," I said.

"Are you moving in?" he asked, gesturing towards my bag plum full of my stuff.

I just grabbed it up and grunted a low reply to his question, "Not a bad idea."

I made a move to leave the room, but he practically jumped in front of me. "Derek, you can't leave. Not when everything's like this. You can't just leave us like that…" he said, eyes welling up in tears.

I took in his appearance in earnest. His eyes were glassy and a little red, but then again, everyone was crying right now. Even Marti.

I know what I was about to do was selfish, but maybe it's not. Maybe having me gone will fix all of this.

"Bye Ed." I sidestepped past him quickly.

He'll see. Everything will be better. For all of them.

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

My ankle hurts. My whole body is coursing with pain. But I have to keep running. I swear those were sirens that I heard a few seconds ago.

The tears are running across my eyes and my cheeks, blinding me. The cold stings at them, piercing my skin harshly. For the first time in my life, I know what it's like to need to run. All the other times were trivial and nonsensical. Nothing from before matters. The only thing that matters now is getting out.

Finally, a park. Darkness consumes my shadows and me and I fall to my knees, gasping at cold air. The freeway is only two streets away and I hear the dimmed sound of cars rushing past my sanctuary.

In vain, I rubbed desperately at my aching ankle. It was hard to tell whether a bruise had already formed from the hard impact it made with the window ledge. Running non-stop for 5 minutes probably didn't help either.

At this thought, I suddenly felt overcome with exhaustion. My eyes were too heavy to be open. My head was too heavy to carry. If I could turn off the tiredness, just for a few more hours. Just a few hours until the tired could take me where I wanted to be.

I pushed myself up. I had no idea where I was. Nothing looked familiar. Until I noticed that across the freeway, atop a small hill, surrounded by fences that stretched beyond my view, was the party of a lifetime. Quite literally.


	15. Low Lives

Disclaimer: I don't own LWD.

A/N: Well, I guess to make up for the short chapter from before, I've supplied you with probably the longest chapter of the story. Hopefully this will make up for the wait. Although I seriously doubt it. Well, anyways, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 15… Low Lifes

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

"You sure you're on the right bus?" he asked.

Trust me old man, I've already asked myself that question so many times. God, he had to be at least 80 years old. And driving a gray hound. Who is he to criticize _my_ life choices?

"Yeah," I replied. He still eyed me, squinting. I just slapped my ticket on the dashboard, turning and taking lengthy strides down the median of the dark, significantly vacant bus. I felt a few glances graze my cheek and I made sure to keep my eyes on the back, where I planned on dropping all of my stuff and collapsing into a high backed, worn down seat or two. Making big choices like this is exhausting.

Finally, I reached the back of the bus and found three empty seats to my right. Setting my stuff on the window seat, I plopped myself down, only to have my butt come in forceful contact with a metal armrest.

"Shit," I hissed between my teeth, glancing down angrily at the cold metal and rubbing at the impact wound. I glanced around me, and though it was dark, I could see the outline of a person a seat away from me, the only person remotely close by. With a jolt, the bus began to move and I felt myself become catapulted into the seat smack dab in the middle of the back.

I looked over again at the person whose head was now turned toward the window, slightly hunched over, hand most likely secured under his chin. From momentary bursts of light from the lampposts we rushed past, I could tell he had dreadlocks, which probably meant he was black. Which is cool and all, I'm not a racist. I just don't know a lot of black people. And I have some friends who are racist. Believe it or not, Sam's a racist. Just one more thing to add to the pile of evidence proving that Sam could in fact be a bad person…

Well, I guess he noticed me looking at him (more like staring) and he cast a glance over his shoulder. I could barely see his brown eyes through his dark skin and my stomach tumbled involuntarily.

"Where you runnin' too?" His voice was deep and rich, like caramel. And his eyes were now focused on my face.

"I'm not running," I said defensively, once I realized the context of his question. Another person questioning me. I felt another demeaning remark tug at my mind. _'Is it every low life's mission to pass judgment on me tonight?' _But he might not be a low life. I mean, look at me, I'm the low life. Calling these people I don't even know low lives just for being curious. "Sorry, it's just… It's just complicated."

"I understand," he said, all sincere. I relaxed a bit at his genuineness and decided to prolong the conversation.

"…What about you?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being too intrusive.

"Oh I'm sure you already know," he chuckled, shifting his head to face the window once more.

My eyebrows must have become one at his words. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means that we really aren't all that different," he replied.

The tension came back and I suddenly felt all cold and strange. And this moment seemed frozen and full of importance, as if this one conversation would make all the difference.

Which is just so stupid. One conversation with a complete stranger will change my life? I think not.

I sighed and rubbed at my eyes. I was still tired, but my mind was still buzzing.

The silence became too much for me to take and I mumbled, "Well, what's your story?"

He chuckled again. And suddenly I realized how hypocritical I'm being. He asks me one simple question and I practically fly off the handle. Now I'm asking multiple questions and he's mister calm and mysterious. "Let's just say I know what it's like to run away from my problems."

"Excuse me, I'm not running away, I'm doing this for them, for everyone," I said, frustrated with the stranger once again.

"Alright brotha', just calm down, I'm really not here to judge," he said, his eyes completely focused on me, hands gesturing that I relax.

I just rubbed at my eyes with a sigh and continued, "This wasn't how it was supposed to be, this isn't my life." My voice was shaking, my chin jutted out in defiance to forming tears, and I looked away, rubbing at my eyes again.

"Hey, it's not supposed to be anything, just calm down…" he said, his voice soothing and calming, yet having absolutely no effect on my on edgy nerves.

"She's just so stupid! Why the heck did she do this! God, everything is so fucked up!" I wiped away at the one tear that managed to escape, even if it was useless to hide my emotions now.

"Tell me," he said, with eagerness that I found fulfilling. Though I wasn't sure how helpful talking about it would turn out to be.

My hand went to support my forehead and I closed my eyes tight. "My step-sister is bulimic. It's been about a week since she told us. And then, today, in class, she just passed out. And everyone came around us and I just started crying. And –"

I almost told him. This is completely ridiculous, but it makes more sense than anything else right now, so I continue. He is, after all, just a stranger.

"I think I love her."

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

My knuckles rapped on the stained wood. It was really loud, and I didn't know how much good it would even do to knock, so instead I just turned the knob and stepped across the threshold.

She was sitting on the couch chatting up some guy. Music pulsed around the house; a steady beat surely doing serious damage to my eardrums even after 3 seconds. And before I knew it, Amy had jumped off the couch as if it were on fire and stumbled her way over to me.

"Hey," she screamed. "How great of you to come!" She smiled and her eyes were bright. I don't think she was drunk, but she wasn't what you'd call sober either.

"Yeah. Happy Birthday," I shouted.

This whole situation was kind of unfamiliar. I'd never been to a serious, beer keg, couples making out in every room kind of party. As a freshman at my old school, sure I'd tasted alcohol. But it was just cooking sherry that some guy had found in his mother's cellar.

Amy smiled her bright white smile and gripped my arm, turning and leading me somewhere. "Come on, let's get you a beer!" she yelled, weaving our way through throngs of people. I just tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear with my free hand. My whole body was tense. A headache was forming at the back of my mind. The incessant chatter, the pounding music.

We reached the refreshment table within seconds. I almost didn't notice Amy trying to hand me the flimsy blue plastic cup, which of course, contained beer. I thought back to the spork. This very cup was most likely made from the exact type of material. Flimsy plastic was my poison of choice tonight. Without hesitation, I grabbed the cup and tipped in down. _Bottoms up._


End file.
